


Destiny, and papier-mache crowns

by framboise



Series: A Westerosi Halloween [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Halloween Costumes, Ridiculousness, Rivalry, Salty Teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/framboise/pseuds/framboise
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, fellow sixth-formers and rival heads of their respective school houses, are being forced to wear a joint costume to the Halloween Ball.Dany thinks that if they have to come in a joint costume then she can come as a queen, andhecan come as her throne. Jon thinks that's anoutrageousidea, and if they're going to do such a stupid costumeanyway, it should really be the opposite way around because Winterfell is way better than Dragonstone, andeveryoneknows it.Can they put aside their enmities, and make a costume that will win them the cash prize?





	Destiny, and papier-mache crowns

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of standalone Halloween-themed multipairing stories.
> 
> This story is obviously inspired by Season 7, but with added ridiculousness, and I had lots of fun writing sulky teenage versions of Jon and Dany and transferring the setting of Westeros to a school (with some artistic liberties taken), I hope other people enjoy it too!
> 
> Also, if you want visuals for this fic I made a graphic [here](https://framboise-fics.tumblr.com/post/166355694962/daenerys-targaryen-and-jon-snow-fellow)

 

 

The teachers of Westeros School have, in their infinite wisdom, decided that in order to fix inter-house grudges that have become increasingly vicious, every sixth-former who attends this year's Halloween Ball must come in a joint costume with another member of a different house.

Luckily, _most_ people have friends in other houses; so once the announcement has been made at assembly, everyone quickly runs around the hall picking their chosen partner.

But unluckily for Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen, the two of them are late to assembly - Jon because of an emergency dentist appointment, Dany because she's been showing around a prestigious old alumnus who can't walk faster than a shuffle.

Some of the teachers seem quite delighted when the two of them finally arrive and realise that they will be paired together because Dragonstone and Winterfell, the houses which they are the respective Head Girl and Boy for, have one of the fiercest rivalries. Dany and Jon, however, are furiously angry, with the only tiny consolation being that there's a cash prize for winning the costume competition and they know that they are probably both as competitive as the other.

 

*

 

Dany _cannot_ believe she's been saddled with _Jon Snow_. She has half a mind to write a stern letter to the school board about it, but even she knows that the matter of costumes for the Halloween Ball is probably below their remit; although it really shouldn't be, actually.

The only reason Jon even got voted in as Head Boy for Winterfell this year was because of the _Night's Watch_ voting bloc. The Night's Watch are a group of northern boys and Free Folk transfer students who spend their lunchtimes in the basement of the school playing a terrible role playing board game called "The Wall" about "defending the country from the hordes of the undead" or something ridiculous like that, and who all made an actual celibacy _pact_ \- as if anyone would want to sleep with their pasty, unwashed selves – promising to devote themselves only to the game until it's finished.

 _Dany_ got voted in as Head Girl of Dragonstone because she was _born_ for the role. Just as her father and grandfather were before her; and all her other relatives, both male and female, going back as far as the age of the school itself. It's in her _blood_ , she's been trained for it since _birth_. And _Jon_ _Snow_ just waltzes up this year, having previously held exactly _zero_ leadership positions (Night's Watch leadership positions don't count, it's a _game_ , it's not _real_ ), and decided that he'd quite like to be _Head Boy_ of Winterfell. _Surely,_ there's something in the school rulebook about that?

But at least she's got the perfect costume idea. She's going to come as the Queen of Summer, and _he_ can come as her throne.

 

*

 

Daenerys Targareyn may be the prettiest girl in school but she's also the absolute _worst_. She walks around like she owns the place, Jon thinks, and she's always followed by a whole crowd of hangers on.

She didn't even put in any _effort_ to get voted in as Head Girl. She may be the captain of the debate team, the director of fundraising for the school charity, and the school environmental monitor; but she didn't even write a manifesto for the Head Girl vote, and the speech she gave was very short.

Jon spent _months_ writing his manifesto, after consultation with all sorts of different groups of Winterfell pupils. He learned northern dialects to help the Free Folk transfer students integrate better, he's seen off challenges from a splinter group who want to use the basement for mainstream board games and take the table the Night's Watch need away from them, for god's sake. He cares about people, he's done his time, unlike her. 

She's a troublemaker too, although no one else seems to be able to see that; she's always writing these letters to the school board and carrying around _petitions_ about pupil rights and homework hours (although Jon could grudgingly admit that he agreed with that particular one and is happy to have more free time in the evenings now for planning Night's Watch raids), and slapping posters about the dangers of too-heavy rucksacks, or the importance of recycling, on the walls of the locker room. She's a busybody, she is, sticking her nose everywhere, like she owns the place.

And don't get him started on her bloody _snakes_. Just how the school board agreed to have a _reptile_ room put in next to the common room, he'll never know, but he suspects it involves a large donation from the Targaryen family. Some of the Night's Watch go and play with the snakes during free periods but Jon doesn't allow any reptile talk while they're playing The Wall, because _distractions_ like that just make everyone sloppy.

The theme for this year's Halloween Ball is supposed to be figures from history or myth, and he was so excited to come as the army commander whose stand against the northern invaders had inspired the creation of The Wall, but he bets that Dany won't agree with his idea, even though she's perfectly welcome to dress as one of the man's foot-soldiers.

In fact, it's even worse than he thought, because Dany thinks he should dress up as her _throne_.

"No way," he tells her, as they have a furious conference just outside the assembly.

"Have you got a better idea? And not someone from the The Wall," she says, pointing at him - hasn't she ever heard that it's rude to point?

"He's not from The Wall, he was a real historical figure that the game is based on."

"No, _ew_ ," she says.

"Ew, yourself!" he says. "I don't see how it's a worse idea than me coming as your bloody _throne_ , an _inanimate object_ , while you're swanning about in a floaty dress. If you want to include a throne in the costume so much then _I_ can come as the King of Winter, and _you_ can be _my_ throne."

"Absolutely not," she says, "you're way too heavy."

"I didn't mean you should _carry_ me. Is that what you meant? You think I'm going to carry you around the Ball?"

"Well, what other ideas do you have?" she asks, and then another pupil walks past looking at them curiously and they shift back further away from each other.

"I don't know," he says, and scrubs at the beard he's desperately trying to grow.

"Let's meet at the same time next week and bring ideas," she says. "But they better be good ones, I'm not letting _Joffrey Baratheon_ beat us."

"No _way_ he is," Jon swears, and they look at each other resolutely, before realising they don't actually like each other, and then running off to their separate classes.

 

*

 

Dany comes to their next meeting, which is two weeks before the Ball itself, prepared, with spreadsheets of costume items and laminated moodboards. 

Jon comes to the meeting with empty hands.

"Did you even _try_ to think of costumes, don't you make any effort?" she asks.

"Er, excuse me, not all of us need bloody _accessories_ to think and plan," he says, waving a hand over her stack of resources.

"Ugh, you're impossible."

"Takes one to know one."

She screws her face up in annoyance, that didn't even make any _sense_. "Do you have a historical period or a myth you're thinking of?" she asks, because she's not going to stand here trading insults when she could be doing other things, she's a very _busy_ person, unlike some basement lurkers.

"I want to wear a cloak," he says, and then pauses, as if he hadn't meant to admit that.

"Cloaks are good," she says, warily.

He nods in agreement.

"Well, it has to be quite far back in history for us to be wearing a cloak, so that's a good start." She scribbles a note in her bullet diary. "Are you thinking like a fur cloak, or a shiny one, or-"

"A fur trim on it," he waves his hands around his shoulders which she's just noticed are quite broad for a boy his age. He looks more handsome when he's not scowling at her.

"Maybe we could be royalty?"

"Both of us?" he asks, "I suppose."

"It's only right, we can't put one house above the other, even though..." she trails off.

"What? Even though Dragonstone is better? Is that what you were about to say?" he asks, but in a teasing rather than combative tone of voice.

"No," she says, setting her jaw.

"Ok then," he hums and the corner of his sullen mouth lifts up into a tiny smirk.

"So, royalty," she says, bringing this meeting back to order. "But who?"

"I don't know yet, I haven't decided." He shakes his head, and he's back to being useless Jon Snow again.

She sighs. "Well, try and choose soon because I've heard that Joffrey and Margaery are already constructing their entire costumes out of wire and papier-mache."

"That sounds shit. It's not a proper costume if you use papier-mache, it's like a puppet or something."

Dany agrees but she doesn't say so out loud. She writes her number on a clean piece of paper, tears it carefully out of her notebook, and hands it to him.

"Text me when you get an idea. But before the weekend, I need to go shopping for supplies."

"I'm not letting you buy everything. I can pay my own way, thank you very much."

"So that _we_ can go shopping for supplies then, happy?"

" _Extremely_ ," he says, and she snorts and walks off.

He's so _difficult_.

 

*

 

It's his cousin Robb, the former Head Boy of Winterfell, that comes up with the idea when Jon is texting him angrily about how _impossible_ Dany is being – they should dress up as the Queen of Summer and the King of Winter. Jon grudgingly agrees that it sounds like a pretty cool costume idea.

The teachers will probably go nuts for it too; they're big on teaching the seasons, even though everyone is far too old now to start crying when the leaves die each autumn, not that Jon ever did that when he was little.

He texts Dany while he's lying in bed, listening to the thrash metal the Free Folk students have brought with them and got him hooked on.

She replies so quickly it startles him, and makes him drop his phone on his face.

 _That sounds perfect_ , she types.

"I know," he says out loud to the room without typing it, "that's _why_ I suggested it."

 _Meet outside the town clock at one on Sunday_? she asks.

 _K_ , he types, and then deletes that and replaces it with _sounds good_ , because he doesn't have a death wish.

On Sunday he almost forgets that they're meeting that afternoon, because he's deep into a Night's Watch planning session online; and then he has to race around the house looking for his _nice_ pair of jeans because, as he tells his mother who's watching him hunt for them with a smile, the other ones are _uncomfortable_.

He runs from the bus stop to the clock, but she's not even here yet, _typical_. While he waits (and he admits that he's early so she's not technically late, but she really should have just known he'd be here now) he starts playing with the hairband around his wrist, and then twists his hair into the halfbun he wears when he's at home, not wanting to seem like he's trying too hard at school, or that he might be attempting to wear a bloody _manbun_.

"Hello-" Dany says, and then seems to stop short with some surprise when he turns around, "Hello, Jon," she finishes; blushing, probably because she knows she should have gotten here early.

"Afternoon, Dany," he says, a little pointedly.

She rolls her eyes and he tries to hide his smile. Sometimes it's way too fun riling her up.

They trail through the shopping centre and quickly decide to focus on the charity shops, and he's pleased that she's not snobbish about them like most girls, but he supposes someone who makes such a big noise about the environment, and throwaway culture, can't then shy away from secondhand stuff.

"You've got black trousers and boots you can wear, right?" she asks, as she flicks through a rack of men's clothing.

"Yeah, course," he says. He was thinking he'd have to wear smart shoes, but the thought of wearing boots instead is pretty cool.

"So now you need a black top and a cloak, and that's it, I suppose."

"And a crown. We need crowns," he says, not mocking her for forgetting the key bloody part of a King and Queen costume, even though he wants to.

"I suppose you've already got your dress," he says.

"I think so, it's a blue silk one," she says, and then tilts her head to the side as she looks at a row of tops, "but I'm not sure. I'm going to try this on," she says, and walks over to the single curtained changing room.

This is why he never comes shopping with girls, even his cousins, they always want to _try on_ everything. He sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

 

*

 

Dany is stuck in the white cashmere jumper she was trying on, and no wriggling about can get it off because it seems to be caught on something.

"Help!" she calls, and moves towards the curtain. She has her pride but she hates being stuck in things, she gets claustrophobic.

"You alright in there?" Jon calls, uncertainly.

"I'm stuck," she says, only a little plaintively, and nudges through the curtain. She can't see a thing so she prays he's there in front of her.

"You've got your hair all twisted," Jon says, softly, in a way that makes her think of what he might be like talking to an injured animal, or to her snakes if he ever deigned to visit them, "here, I'll help you, it's caught up in your jumper."

"Thank you," she says, voice muffled, impressed by the careful way he unteases her hair from the button and zip it's caught in, but then he has such long hair for a boy that he's probably just used it.

"There," he says, "there you go," and he pulls the jumper free and she blows her hair out of her face and breathes again, smiling in thanks.

But he doesn't return the smile. He's staring at her oddly, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her mouth.

"Have I got something else on me?" she asks, wiping a sleeve across her lips.

"Nope," he says, and coughs and looks away.

"Ok..." she says, "So, cloaks. We need fur," she announces, "and I know just where to look."

They pick up fur - white for her, and black for him - and fabric for the main body of the cloaks from the haberdashery which Jon has obviously never been inside, judging from the amazed look on his face.

He looks unfairly good with his hair pulled back like that; you can see his cheekbones and get the full force of his dark eyes. But she'd _die_ before she ever told him that.

Her arms are getting heavy with the bags now. "Shall we stop for coffee?" she asks.

"Yes please," he groans, "my arms are going to fall off, who knew fabric was so heavy."

She kindly doesn't say that if he had enough practise lifting and carrying her snakes then his muscles, impressive as they currently look in the tight t-shirt he has stripped down to, would be more used to it.

 

*

 

Jon offers to order their drinks, not because he's trying to be chivalrous but because Dany is probably one of those people who wastes time chatting to the barista and finding out their entire life story.

"So we need to sew the fur on, and I'm not doing it for you. Do you even know how to sew?" she asks, dubiously.

"Of course I do," he says, because with a busy single mother he learned how to fix holes and sew on buttons at a young age. It's not the kind of skill you really advertise though. "We've got a machine that's really quick."

"Oh, that's cool, I can never figure out how to work those. I'm not actually a very good sewer," she says, as if she's admitting something heinous, not being good at something. He is magnanimous enough not to mock her.

They pause and sip their drinks, not knowing what to talk about. This hasn't been too bad, shopping with her, but maybe it's just that she's good in short bursts.

And then he goes and ruins the tentative peace by saying, "You didn't want to dress up as one of your snakes?"

"No," she says, scowling, "that wouldn't follow the costume remit, would it. I don't know what you've got against them."

"Er, everything," he says, eyes caught by the angry way she's sucking on the straw of her fancy vanilla frothy thing, "they're _snakes_."

"Are you scared?" she mocks.

"No," he scoffs.

"I can hold your hand while you meet them if you want."

"I never want to meet them, and don't tease me about it," he says, and looks away pointedly.

"Oh, do you have a phobia or something? I'm sorry," she says, chastened, and he smirks.

"I'm just messing with you," he says, "Of course I don't have a phobia of them, they're just weird, aren't they."

"You're weird," she says and kicks the table leg, making him spill lukewarm coffee over his fingers, which he sucks off angrily while she watches him and then huffs and drinks noisily through her straw in response. It's like sitting opposite a child.

Once they're finished with their drinks, they arrange to meet after school for two nights next week in the art rooms to make their crowns, and then go their separate ways.

 

*

 

"I thought about it and we'll have to make the crowns out of papier mache over a wire frame," Dany says, warily, when they meet in the art rooms.

"That sounds good," Jon says, pushing his hair back from his face, "I mean they're an accessory, it's not like we're papier mache-ing our whole bodies like Joffrey and Margaery."

"Exactly," she nods.

They spend half an hour twisting wire into the shape of crowns and then get out old newspapers to cut into strips. Jon, naturally, manages to cut himself with the safety scissors.

"Really, safety scissors?" she says, rummaging in her bag for a plaster for his cut.

"Don't," Jon says, mournfully, "I'll never live it down." He sighs theatrically, and she can't help but laugh.

"It's not as embarrassing as burning your hair off with a Bunsen burner," she says.

"That happened to you? I thought that was just a story?"

She doesn't know why she's telling him the truth but she nods. "My dad's a scientist and he let me play around with some of his stuff one summer, and I leaned right over the flame and - poof!" she motions to her head.

"I got my head trapped in railings once."

"Really?" she says, and he nods morosely.

"They had to get the fire brigade out and oil up my neck."

She cackles at that image.

"I'm glad you think it's funny," he says, dryly.

Then his phone rings and he goes outside to answer it and doesn't return for ages, making her think that he's abandoned her for a secret girlfriend or something. But when he comes back he's carrying a fluffy white object in his arms.

"What is-"

"Meet Ghost," he says, plonking down a small Pomeranian dog on the floor by her feet.

"Oh my god!" she says, delightedly. "It's so fluffy and small," she coos, reaching down a hand to pet it.

Jon looks both proud and sheepish when she looks up at him.

"My mum had an emergency and we can't leave him in the house alone."

"Why not?"

"He looks like an angel but he's a menace really," Jon says, kneeling down next to the fluffball and petting it. The dog looks up at him lovingly, and Dany feels her heart melt despite herself.

"Slanderous words," she says.

"Oh yeah, well look at this scar then," he says, lifting up his top and baring a surprisingly muscular midsection to show her a tiny ringed scar.

It doesn't look very impressive to be honest but she takes a closer look to humour him.

"That's why I have snakes," she says, when they've sat back down to finish covering their crowns with glue and paper. "They've never bitten me."

He scoffs, "Sure."

"I swear!" she says.

"I still won't come and visit them."

"You'll come around one day," she murmurs, "I'm working on it." She looks over to see him smile, and admits that he has quite a nice smile.

The next night the crowns are dry enough to paint gold and stick gems to. Dany yawns as she picks up the fiddly fake jewels with her fingers.

"You look tired," he says.

"Thanks Jon, you've really got a way with women."

He sighs. "I just meant, I bet you've been working hard on school stuff, too hard."

"I was finishing off a proposal to get the school to donate unused food to local foodbanks," she admits.

"I think you work too hard. You'll get into any university you want, you don't need to do so many extra things."

"It's not about that," she argues. "No one else will do it if I don't, and it's important."

"Still, you shouldn't set yourself on fire to keep other people warm, you know."

She makes an agreeing noise and then stops. "Did you just make a joke about my Bunsen burner incident?"

He laughs.

"And there I was thinking you were being thoughtful."

"I was being both," he says.

"I don't know why you're talking about me looking tired when you've got bruises under your eyes too. I bet you were up all night planning Night's Watch stuff, weren't you."

"I might have been," he says, mulishly, and then sighs. "I know what you think of it but it's not just a game, it's a family too, you know. The Free Folk lot say it makes them feel more welcome and there's other boys who are having a difficult time at home who really enjoy it. _And_ we learn about politics and history and strategy, team playing, all that stuff."

"I can understand that," she concedes, "I can see how it's not just a game."

"Thank you, Dany," he says.

She doesn't ask him about the celibacy pact because she's honestly not that curious, and anyway she doesn't want to ruin the friendly mood.

They finish up their crowns in no time at all and make plans to meet on the night of the ball itself outside the main entrance. Dany is surprised to find herself looking forward to the ball and to seeing what Jon looks like in his full costume.

 

*

 

Jon is dropped off at the ball by his mother along with a few of the Night's Watch, who are looking totally unlike their usual selves in the bright colours of their costumes. He only has to wait at the entrance a few moments before Dany arrives in a white stretch limo, along with her friends who exit first in a giggling mass of glitter and pouffy skirts. He feels quite nervous as he waits for her to leave the car last, but he doesn't know why.

He's seen parts of her costume before but the effect together is stunning – a white cape with delicate fur shoulders revealing a flash of the blue silk dress underneath; and the golden crown that she wears, he thinks nonsensically, as if she was born to wear one.

She seems to stop and stare at him in the same surprised manner, and he can't help but be a little pleased. He did look pretty damn good in the reflection of the hall mirror at home before he left.

"My Queen," he says, intending it to sound mocking and not earnest like it actually comes out. He bows towards her, without looking away from her violet eyes which seem to have caught his.

"My King," she say solemnly, curtseying.

She looks so damn pretty it's unfair. He gives her his arm and she curls a small hand around it as they enter the school.

The teachers have set up a large mirror near the entrance to the hall, with bright lights around its edges for people to check their costumes and take selfies, before they get rumpled by dancing or stained from the punch.

Jon is quite startled by the sight of them together, quite dumbstruck.

"We look good," he says, eyes caught on the way her white hair seems to melt into the soft fur around her shoulders; the way the light reveals the tiny freckles across her nose and cheeks, and shines off her lipgloss.

"We do," she says. "Should we take a picture?" she asks, hesitantly.

"Sure," he says, and takes out his phone. "I can tag you in it on Instagram if you want."

"Thanks, Jon," she says, "I didn't have room to wear my phone on me tonight," she adds, lifting up her cape so that he can see the sleek lines of her dress which clings to her curves.

He coughs and his hands fumble as he lifts his phone up. It's awkward trying to fit them both in the picture; they have to shuffle together until the whole of their sides are touching and he can smell the summery body lotion she's wearing.

"I think we'll definitely win," he says, once they've finished and made it into the hall.

"For sure," she agrees, "everyone else's costume is _rubbish_."

He laughs at her competitiveness, but he agrees obviously.

Now that they're here, and they don't have the excuse of working on their costumes anymore, it's a bit awkward. They can't go off and do their own things, or hang out with their own friends, because the teachers are roving through the crowd judging costumes, and their individual costumes don't work on their own, they only look good next to one another with the contrast.

"Fancy a drink?" he asks.

"Yes, please," she says, and he suddenly gets a silly urge to bow at her before he leaves for the punch table, like he really is her king, _ridiculous_.

They sip at their punch, spiked with whiskey by an enterprising sixth-former, and watch the other couples dancing, commenting on their terrible costumes.

"Shall we dance?" he asks, "Just so the teachers definitely see us," he adds.

"Sounds like a plan," she says, and smiles at him and he leads her out onto the dancefloor.

He can't remember the last time he danced with someone else. Usually at parties he prefers lurking in a group with his friends, or jumping up and down to energetic songs, so he's not the steadiest on his feet as they glide around trying not to bump into anyone else, but luckily Dany has obviously had lessons and he's not such an idiot that he wouldn't let her lead.

He tries not to look at her, to be caught by the pretty way the coloured lights glint off her face but he fails. She looks right back at him and it's almost like they're the only ones in the room; though that's a ridiculous thought, obviously.

 

*

 

Dany is finding it hard to breathe tonight, which is odd because her dress is floaty and not tight around her ribcage.

"I think I need some air, it's busy in here," she says, and he leans closer to hear, and she can smell the woodsy cologne he's wearing, nothing like the horrible bodyspray most teenage boys wear.

"Come on," he says, and leads her out of the hall with a hand on her back that seems to warm her skin even through her cloak and dress.

There's a loud group of giggling girls in the hallway that they walk away from towards the row of lit pumpkins the science teachers have made with chemical symbols carved into their sides.

Her mouth is feeling dry and her stomach trembles oddly.

"I'm having a good time tonight," she admits.

"You are?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Mmm," she murmurs.

He's standing quite close to her. He's not tall, Jon, but she's so short that he seems it, and anyway he's so broad that it doesn't matter.

"That celibacy pact-" she finds herself saying.

"Oh god," he groans, and looks down, embarrassed.

"Is it strict?" she asks, drifting closer, as his hand reaches up to push some of her hair behind her ear, and makes her shiver.

"Not really," he says, dipping his head towards her, dark eyes looking at her mouth, tongue swiping his own full bottom lip that she's been dreaming about for days now.

"That's good," she murmurs, and he kisses her and she wraps her arms around his neck.

 

*

 

When it comes to the grand announcement for first prize of the costume competition – after second prize has gone to a sour looking Joffrey Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell – the winners are nowhere to be found, and the teachers have to start the music up again because waiting for them has gotten awkward.

Eventually, the Queen of Summer and the King of Winter emerge from wherever they have been hiding, tugging at clothes that are a little skewed, and patting down ruffled hair, and as they clamber on stage to collect their individual cash envelopes, the spotlights clearly show two matching hickeys, just above the fur of their matching cloaks.

But the truce between Dragonstone and Winterfell turns out to only be temporary, even though its Head Boy and Girl are still going strong, irritating all their friends with their mooning and pining whenever they are apart, and becoming a constant hazard for unsuspecting pupils walking into darkened rooms or around corners to find the two of them in a passionate clinch.

The celibacy pact of the Night's Watch is duly disbanded, and the game opened up to girls too, of which Dany is one of the first, utterly distracting Jon from his duties as commander, even though he never tells her that.

The reptile room has a new regular visitor too, who charms the snakes as Dany looks on proudly, taking photos of him for her Instagram and captioning them #MyWinterKing which is sickening, and not at _all_ cute, Jon thinks, scrolling down his own page full of #MySummerQueen hashtags underneath photos of Dany looking _ruthless_ and _brilliant_ while she's playing The Wall beside him.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> please comment, I'd love to hear what people think!
> 
> my tumblr: [framboise-fics](http://framboise-fics.tumblr.com)
> 
> and there's a rebloggable photoset for this fic [here](https://framboise-fics.tumblr.com/post/166355694962/daenerys-targaryen-and-jon-snow-fellow)


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